


Misadventures of Faelandalan

by AbsolutTrash



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Banter, Drabble Collection, Dragon Age: Inquisition Spoilers, Dragons, Elves, Fantasy, Gen, OC, Other, god i'm bad at tagging things, sorta - Freeform, there might be romance but i dont know
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-13
Updated: 2016-03-13
Packaged: 2018-05-26 10:55:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6235894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AbsolutTrash/pseuds/AbsolutTrash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Follow the young upstart Grania Faelandalan, leading force of the Inquisition, on her numerous (mis)adventures. As opposed to the Lavellan we're used to, she's walking in shoes too big for her, but she's got to make the most of it, right? Will contain spoilers for Trespasser!!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Elf Tossing?

**Author's Note:**

> Grania's an oc of mine and so all of this is essentially going to be drabbles focusing on her going through canon events, as well as stuff on the side. Enjoy!

The young elf huffed as she made it up the mountain, legs burning, chest hurting. Her face was coated in a layer of slick sweat, sticking her bangs to her face. Along with this rogue was an even shorter man, a dwarf armed with a crossbow, a monstrous man with grey skin and horns hooked like a dragon’s, and the Tevinter mage. Varric, the Iron Bull, and Dorian, respectively.

“Say, Varric,” began the Iron Bull, turning to look down at the author. “Do you think I could launch you high enough to-“

“Don’t even think about finishing that, Tiny,” snapped Varric, frowning. He had already pieced together what was going to come out of the Qunari’s mouth. 

Grain turned around to look at them both, crossing her arms and cocking her head. “What’s this about launching Varric? Does this happen often?” The mere concept was puzzling. Why Varric, in particular?

“Boss, have you not heard of dwarf tossing where you came from?” Bull asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not to mention elf tossing. I’d wager you would have at least heard of it,” Dorian chimed in, thoroughly amused by her naïvety. But they were all met with a very confused shake of the head.

And then… she got that look. The look she normally gets when she gets spontaneously horrible ideas. Varric braced himself for the words coming out of her mouth, as they would definitely refer to throwing someone.

“Bull. We have to use this.” Her bright pink eyes locked with the Iron Bull’s, burning with determination and excitement.

“Surely you aren’t implying-“

“I’m implying exactly what you think I am.” She cut off the mage. “No one would see it coming! A flying elf going at the Venatori? Imagine all the rumors!” Suddenly, Grain gasped. “Dragons! Bull, this would work against dragons! The winged bastards couldn’t fly away from something that’s on them!”

Varric glanced over at Dorian, leaning in as best as he could, given their height difference. “You should probably keep your barrier spell at the ready from now on, Sparkles,” he muttered.

“Of course, I wouldn’t stand to see our dear Inquisitor splat across the ground like a hot cake!” Deep down, though, the two of them were more excited to see it all pan out than they would admit.


	2. When Elves Fly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After some... careful planning, the Iron Bull and Grain figure out a way to integrate elf tossing into battle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I already have this written up and I'm impatient, might as well throw in the followup!

The next week was full of coordinating tactics between the elf and the Qunari, during numerous skirmishes between Venatori forces, red Templars, and other outlaws that crossed them. At first it started with Grain getting a running start, the Iron Bull crouching down with his fingers intertwined to form a foothold, and standing quickly while throwing his hands up, thus throwing her with it. That worked a few times, but it wasn’t accurate, and often missed. Thankfully, Dorian kept ever the watchful eye on the two, keeping their barriers up, and Varric managed to get a hold of a sack full of bandages and healing elixirs.  
The methods evolved, but eventually they worked out something. It took longer, and damn near broke her legs, but it gave Bull the approximate aim and momentum he needed, and soon enough he could launch the Inquisitor through the air with accuracy that worked in their favor nine times out of ten.  
It was during a battle against the Ferelden Frostback, that damned lizard that flew off and perched somewhere unreachable, but, weary and unwilling to go on another chase, Grain snapped her head towards the mercenary. “Bull, let’s go!” she shouted, sheathing her daggers at her back and darting towards him. He gave a nod and set his weapon down, grabbing her wrists and starting spinning, faster and faster as her legs lift above the ground without her holding them. With all the force in his body he threw her up, and she flew towards the dragon’s head, just as it had flapped its wings and taken flight.  
Instinctively, she reached out and gripped the beast’s horn, and used the last of her momentum to kick her leg over and straddle its neck- with quite a bit of flailing and several swears, in both Elven and the common tongue. She shook her head and realized just where she was, and clamped down with her legs, because now the dragon was airborne and trying to shake it off.  
She kept her left arm hooked around a horn and pulled out one of her daggers, and proceeded to thrust it into the beast’s skull. It barely broke through, and the more she tried to stab, the more violent the dragon tried to get her off. Blood oozed from the wounds, coated the tips of her knife, and got on her already-stained clothes.   
With a final cry and a gambit, where she used both hands to drive the blade deeper into the skull, her ragtag lobotomy finally succeeded, as she pushed it all the way to the hilt.  
An ear-shattering screech filled the air, and the Frostback suddenly fell back to earth, face first. There wasn’t anything she could do at this point, and each second brought her down faster, and at that point all she could do was hold on.  
The impact knocked her out instantly, force knocking her head against the bloody scalp. In fact, Grain’s consciousness was gone before the tail hit the ground.  
“Boss!”  
“Shit- Inquisitor!”  
“Inquisitor!” The other three all cried out at once, each man running towards the dead reptile, through the dust the landing kicked up. The Iron Bull stifled a cough and went to the head.  
“Shit…” Bull muttered as he found the teen’s limp body, sprawled out on the strong neck. Since she was on her stomach, it was hard to tell if she was breathing.  
“That doesn’t sound good… Please, tell me she’s alright,” Dorian pleaded, standing opposite of the head to look at the fallen elf.   
Varric was there soon and pressed two fingers to her neck, feeling around for any signs of a pulse. After a few moments, he let out a sigh of relief. “She’s just out cold, not dead. That would be kind of a let down if this is what killed her. An anti-climactic ending.” While he tried making it light hearted, he was concerned, but also awe struck.  
“Dusklight camp isn’t far, we should go back and rest up.” The Iron Bull picked up the Inquisitor in one arm, and yanked out her dagger with the other. He cracked a grin. “Nice going, boss. Varric, you mind looting the dragon? I’ve got my hands full here.”  
“Sure thing, Tiny.” The dwarven rogue went to the carcass while Bull and Dorian stepped away.  
Dorian looked across the scorched land from where the party had ran to fight the dragon, and remembered the annoying adversaries that awaited them. “Bull, do you need me to take her? After all, those dragonlings roaming around will be quite the nuisance.”  
“Nah. If we could run through ‘em the first time, we should be good the second time ‘round.”  
The two men stood around a bit longer until Varric joined them, and sighed. “Shepherd there really did a number on that thing’s head.”  
“Yes, Varric, we all have eyes here.”  
With that, everyone made a run for Dusklight camp, where they’d all tend to their wounds, and Dorian would be tasked with tending Grain’s wounds. He was, after all, her closest friend in the party, and Varric claimed he would feel weird doing it.   
Regardless, they would all have one hell of a story to tell when they got back to Skyhold.


End file.
